


Swimmingly

by RadLoser



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Swimmingly is a dumb word
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10105676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadLoser/pseuds/RadLoser
Summary: What happens when two gay guys who are meant to simply be backround characters for a movie set start talking too loud?"Way, Iero, stop flirting so loud!"..."...What way did he just pronounce my name?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first chapter of this when I was 14. I'm now 18. 
> 
> Welcome back, old friend.

Nerves. That’s all he can focus on, and how each and every single one of them are having a fucking brawl inside his stomach, probably bitch slapping and throwing shit at eachother. That’s what it feels like, anyway. It’s quite unsettling, but he can cope. He’ll just wait here until his name is called.

 

He’s not the only one in here though, and he’s certainly not the only one who’s nervous. I mean, of course you’ve got your Cocky Cathy’s and Pompous Peter’s scattered here and there, but we also have our Nervous Nellie’s. And that’s what he is. He’s being a Nervous Nellie.

 

Granted, his name’s Gerard, but whatever.                         

 

Knee shaking up and down, fingernails picking at eachother and the chewing of chapped lips, he’s being an anxious mess waiting for his name to be called. You may be asking at this point where he is. I mean, you must be some bit curious, right?

 

And to be totally honest, he’s not really sure, he’s not entirely familiar with this side of town, but he can tell you _why_ he’s here. He’s here for an audition. Don’t ask me for what, I’m pretty sure it’s for some low budget movie or whatever, but hey, how cool would it be if he got in? Like, if he does manage to get in, it will most likely just be a small part of some guy in the back pretending to laugh and make some ridiculous hand gestures, but ‘I’m all for it, I’m so pumped, I’m--’

 

“Gerard Way?” a women’s voice calls out. No response.

 

“Uh, I’m looking for a Gerard Way,” she says again, and hang on a second, _that’s me!_

 

“H-here,” Gerard says while standing up. She looks in his direction and flashes him the fakest smile he has ever witnessed. He returns the favour.

 

“If you’d just like to follow me though here, Mr. Way, that’d be great,” and so he follows.

 

He’s soon lead into a bright artificially lit room with a single camera stood on a tripod in the centre. There’s the long table with a coffee stained clothe covering the surface with four men sitting on uncomfortable looking plastic chairs all chatting amongst themselves. He smooths out his clothes a bit and flicks off a few dog hairs, which is quite unusual considering he doesn’t even own a dog. He ruffles his hair a bit, and notices that some of the red dye has rubbed off onto his fingers. _‘Well, that’s certainly the last time I experiment with dollar store hair dye_ ,’ he thinks to himself.

 

“You must be Gerard Way,” a guy with hipster looking glasses says from behind the table. Gerard couldn’t help but notice that he looks like he’s meant to working in an Apple store or some shit. He just has that look about him, you know? He even has the mun in his hair. _God, I hate that word. A mun. A man bun. For fucks sake, it’s still just a fucking bun, your fragile masculinity isn’t going to get damaged if you just call it a fucking--_

 

“Gerard Way?” Hipster Guy says again, doing this weird floaty hand gesture thing to get Gerard’s attention.

 

“Hi, Sorry, yeah. I’m Gerard,” Gerard tells him, and he stretches out his hand to shake, so Gerard supposes he has to go over and shake it now. _Fuckin’ manners and shit._

 

Hipster Guy pushes up his glasses up to the bridge of his nose before speaking again. “Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to be here. Is there any particular role you’re interested in?”

 

His smile is even more faker than that lady’s was, but _I guess that’s what acting is all about, right?_

 

“Not really,” Gerard replies, scratching the back of his neck, “...nothing major, you know?”

 

The man next to Hipster Guy, who’s wearing those weird glasses that don’t actually have lenses in them, just horizontal bars that apparently keep the sun out, so let’s call him Shutter Shades Guy, says, “well, the scene we’re focusing on at the moment is a New Year’s scene, so, if you’d be comfortable with it, we’d be asking you to share a New Year’s kiss with someone. You wouldn’t be the only one, it’s set at a party, but people are apprehensive about kissing strangers, so we have a lot of space to fill up there yet. ”

 

“And if you’d be interested,” Hipster Guy continued, “we’d be more than happy to get you a place in there.”

 

Gerard scrunched up his face in thought. He doesn’t know much about this production, but hey, if he gets paid thirty bucks to smooch some chick, then why the fuck not. Just as Gerard was about to agree, Hipster Guy speaks up again.

 

“...And because we must be “politically correct” and “diverse”“, he rolls his eyes, doing air quotation fingers and everything, “ ...we must include a gay couple, so you’d probably have to kiss a guy.”

 

And suddenly, Gerard was much more interested in the deal.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’ll be fine, Gerard,” Mikey drawls to Gerard on the phone.

 

“But Mikes, what if they pair me with like. I don’t know. A fifty year old man,” Gerard whines.

 

“They won’t,” Mikey says simply. “They said they have to be politically correct, right? I’m pretty sure pairing you with some creep thirty years older than you isn’t politically correct,” and Gerard supposed he had a point.

 

“Okay, but what if the guy they give me has like. Herpes. Like. What if I drop dead while kissing some--”

 

“Gerard.” Mikey says monotonously. “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

 

“Oh God, what if he’s straight and... and--” and then Mikey hangs up.  
Gerard stares dumbly at his phone for a few moments. Well, fuck you too, Mikey.

 

* * *

 

Today’s the day. Today Gerard will meet the guy he’s been told nothing about. Today Gerard will also kiss the guy he’s been told nothing about. Today he will walk out thirty dollars richer, and will spend that thirty dollars on art supplies and comics, because that’s all he knows.

 

Gerard was told to wear something somewhat casual, as if he was going to a party, but also warm because it’s set during New Year’s Eve. Considering it’s the middle of June, he looks pretty ridiculous wearing a scarf walking inside the building. He’s also wearing a Misfit’s logo shirt and black skinny jeans, so it’s not as if he isn’t accustomed to not boiling himself to death during Summer months by wearing black, he’s completely used to it. If anything, he’s worried about that the guy he’s going to kiss will see him and request someone else and then Gerard will be sent home. _Oh, woe is me._

 

And as it turns out, Gerard had nothing to worry about. When he stepped onto the set, complete with fake snow and the likes, Hipster Guy pointed out the guy he’d be kissing, who just so happened to be wearing a hat with those fluffy ear flaps on the sides, earmuffs, mittens, and fucking legwarmers. To top it off, he’s _also_ wearing a Misfits shirt. Oh God.

 

“Oh great!” Shutter Shades Man chimes in with, “this will be perfect, you both look like you belong in that cringy kind of couple who wears matching shirts all the time. I’m sure you’ll both get along swimmingly!”

 

“Yeah,” the mystery guy says, “ _swimmingly._ ”

 

“Great!” Shutter Shades Man claps his hands together, “...so, you two can bond for a few hours and get to know eachother, right? Right!” and leaves Gerard and mystery guy to their own devices.

 

“So, uh,” Mystery Guy begins. “My name’s Frank.”

 

“Gerard. I-I mean. I’m Gerard. I. Oh God. I’m so bad at this,” Gerard brings his hands up to his face and rubs at his eyes harshly. “...I like your shirt.”

 

Frank snorts, “yeah, thanks it’s designer,” he scoffs.

 

“Oh yeah, what’s mine then?”

 

“Cheap replica reproduction,” Frank pretends to shake his hand disapprovingly.

 

“Well shit, I paid top dollar for it,” Gerard says incredulously, playing along.

 

“Well, you got screwed over man. Sorry to be the one that tells ya,” Frank shrugs and then giggles, breaking out of character. “God, Obnoxious Glasses guy actually said the word swimmingly. Out loud!”

 

“I know right? Who the fuck does that?” both men look over at the man at the same time, sharing their mutual dislike for him. “Also, I was giving him the same of Shutter Shades Guy, but I prefer your one.”

 

“Oh God, they actually have a name for those?” Frank eye’s went wide, “fuckin’ Shutter Shades Guy, get the fuck over yourself...”

 

The two men conversed for a few minutes, and they were. in fact, getting along _swimmingly_. Granted, they kept making fun of the word every few minutes, but neither one of them were complaining. By the time Frank suggested that they go get coffee, Gerard felt as if they’ve always been friends and went along with the coffee idea willingly.

 

_Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming swimming._

**Author's Note:**

> Man if you've never read Helena Hathaway's works, please do bc she is my inspo and helped me get through my first heartbreak and she writes gooder than i ever will so go do that!


End file.
